Chimera

Chimera

How simple, clear, is writing 

when one waits for nothing;

when all dream passed away;

when it's not possible inspire hope

nor let down;

how simple is writing someone,

when one waits for no response,

when one have no cause,

wish,

nor excuse;

how simple is crying with words

without clamouring for solace,

with gratifying no need;

how simple it's

give up the name

and abandon the gift

into the lips of promise;

how simple results writing you,

believing that you does not exist,

and,

if you do,

thinking that you lives 

in that call the paradise,

where the will

does not roam

on the sadness of else's soul;

but dance on reluctant beat lascivious of heart.

I am sorry for pretending to deceive you;

telling you that you are in my dreams;

but, they are blue

like

the unsuccessful one's jazz.

Continue seducing us,

the blind for love devils;

the forgotten ones

that tasting the life

watching it pass;

the miserable ones

that wager their souls for a heart;

the unfortunate ones

that never learnt

how to earn the charity of a company.